6 Months with Brian Williams

A "Brian Williams Story" every day during his 6-month suspension. by Ari Teman ( facebook / twitter )

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Brian Williams on Fishing

"Fat people love to fish."

"I think all kinds of people like to fish, Brian."

"Not like fatties. They need it to feel powerful. A fat guy isn't going to hunt. The best they can do is hunker down in a boat and take credit for the stupidity of a fish."

"Fishing isn't always easy."

"People aren't always smarter than fish."

"Smart fish or dumb people?"

"Dumb people."

"Oh."

"Dumb, fat people."

Wait, no. My mistake. I was discussing the radicalization of cats in Petach Tikva over a bunless burger at Shu Sha with Ayelet Halamish and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams on Bernie Madoff, Basketball, and Jews

"Bernie Madoff was really good."

"I think most people would disagree with you, Brian."

"At basketball."

"Oh."

"For a Jew."

"I'm a Jew."

"How's your free-throw?"

"That wasn't the point I was trying to make."

"It's worth three points."

"I --"

"You must be shit at basketball."

Wait. No. I was at Yankee Stadium with Dean Landsman discussing the efficacy of Arbitron's survey method and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams Explains Teaneck, New Jersey

"You don't know what it means to be a man," Brian leaned in and pointed at me, "until you've done time in Teaneck, New Jersey. Cutthroats live in Teaneck. You want to pussyfoot through life, you go to some softyville like Englewood or Alpine, places that wouldn't know a riot if it came in a zoot suit. You want to be broken and forced to build yourself from dust? Teaneck. You know how many orthodox synagogues there are in Teaneck, Page?"

"Twenty three?"

"That's right, twenty three. Because being in Teaneck for just a few hours makes you cry out to god. I've been to every synagogue and there's always a minyan for Kaddish."

Brian Williams loves saying Kaddish, the Jewish mourners' prayer.

He continued, "Every synagogue, morning, afternoon, night, Kaddish. That place is full of death."

"I'm sure there's more to Teaneck than death."

"Death is lucky in Teaneck. You'd pray for death, Page. Do you know what the most popular food in Teaneck is?"

"No."

"Guess."

"Deli?"

"Ha! Amateur! You see Noah's Ark Deli and you think you have the answer. You're right in that Teaneck is the kind of place to name a restaurant after the most-famous story of saving animals and then grill, broil, and feed people those animals, but you're not even close."

"OK. Pizza?"

"Fool!"

Brian slapped me across the face.

"You're seeing with your eyes. You need to feel. Feel the energy. Sushi."

"Sushi?"

"Raw flesh," Brian answered. "That's what the people of Teaneck crave. You'd never make it here. 'Pizza.' Fool. The pizza stores here sell sushi. Everyone sells sushi. Teaneck's thirst for raw flesh is insatiable." Brian drinks his food.

"Everyone?"

"An oil change comes with a spicy salmon roll."

He had a point.

"You haven't seen anything. Teaneck's entire education system is built on humiliation. The honors classes are strictly public ridicule and insults to your personal worth, which is nothing, if you're lucky."

"That seems rough."

"You don't know rough. The Teaneck Spring Fair bouncy castle is the municipal recycling depot's glass bin. You want to play in Teaneck, you jump on broken glass. If you cry, they deport you to Tenafly. You know where the depot is? On the river. It's not for transport. They use trucks. It's so when you gaze into the river you see a literal reflection of the trash you are. That's romance in Teaneck."

"Romance? That sounds like a positive."

"Romance is forbidden in Teaneck. You're not even allowed to love yourself."

Wait, no. I was at Smokey Joe's with Adam Gussen and Matthew Strassberg  discussing ways to throw pumpkins and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Mr. Trump would like to qualify remarks made about Brian Williams. True, Mr. Trump, hugely successful real estate mogul and beloved TV personality, who has more talent in his pinky than most people have in their extended families, called Mr. Williams, “lying Brian Williams”, but to call Mr. Williams a liar would be to fail to tell the whole picture and Mr. Trump has never failed at anything in his life.

Brian Williams is not just a liar, he's also very stupid, as stupid as Mr. Trump is brilliant and successful. Brian Williams is so dumb he cannot do two things at once, like remember a story and tell the truth. When Brian Williams orders a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, they have to give him two sandwiches, one peanut, and one jelly, because he's too stupid to handle both at the same time. Mr. Trump has the courage to tell the truth.

And you know who makes those sandwiches for Lying Brian Williams? Mexicans. Mr. Trump's sandwiches are made by Americans, with American Cheese, and these sandwiches are huge, glorious, the finest sandwich materials, because Mr. Trump will Make America Great Again. Like it once was, before Mexican Station NBC (MSNBC). NBC’s sandwiches are pathetic. Mr. Trump has wives younger than the bread on an NBC sandwich.

Let it be known that from hereon in no NBC or Univision employee may play with the pool toys at Trump Atlantic City.

Donald J. Trump

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Brian Williams on Donald Trump Being Fired from NBCUniversal

"Trump being fired means they moved him to MSNBC, right?"

"I'm afraid not, Brian. He's really out."

"They can do that?"

"I'm afraid so."

"To Trump even? I thought he was invincible. This makes him seem human."

"I wouldn't go that far."

"Minnows won't mate in his hair. We've tried. Even with seeds."

"It's dried fruit, I keep tellin--"

"I don't understand why he gets to be fired and I don't."

"You don't? You want to be fired? I thought you love NBC."

"I..." Brian paused, twisting the stick-on handlebar mustache he'd made Props put on him before drinking his pureed lunch, "I like the zoo more."

"Of course you do, Brian. We all love the zoo. But that's fun. What do you want to do for work?"

"What's work?"

"What you do during the week. Where we bring you to sit at the desk and read the words on the mirror?"

"You just heard yourself, right?"

Wait, no, I was having vegan smores at 40 Carrots with Aly Walansky, discussing nail polish that warns you when Fleetwood Mac is about to play, and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams Hates the Library of Congress

"Fuck the Library of Congress!"

"Whuh?"

I'm not sure if I spit out my soup or if it all settled to the bottom of my gaping mouth.

"You know what I'm talking about. Those arrogant book pushers."

"You have something against books?"

"I write books!"

Technically, a man in Palm Springs, California writes books and we put Brian's headshot on them.

"I'm very familiar with your books."

"Is that a sexual thing?"

"What?! No. I'm not--"

"If you're having sex with my books I understand. I get that. I get it. In high school I had an intimate relationship with a magazine."

"Looking at the pictures?"

"Sure. Sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Listen, book fucker, I don't have a problem with your sexual proclivities. You gonna judge me and Searsy?!"

"Searsy? You had a thing with the Sears catalogue?"

"There wasn't the Internet back then."

"Fair point."

"That's when the Library of Congress got their power. Before the internet. They controlled the in-for-mation." Brian Williams punctuated each syllable by  whacking the table with his spoon.

"I'd say they more catalogued it. They'd give each book an ISBN."

"That's what ISBN telling you!"

"Wait! Was this all a setup for that pun!?"

Wait, no. My mistake. I was on a Delta flight from Miami to NYC with Brad Meltzer describing mental health in the Oval Office and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams Donates His Body to Howard University

"If I die, donate my body to Howard."

"Stern?"

"University! Howard University! The premier institution for young African men and women. Stern? What are you nuts!?"

"I'm just a little confused. People usually donate their bodies to a local hospital or science center."

"Howard does all kinds of science. Including the science of race!"

"I think we're getting close to saying something we shouldn't, Brian."

"I was born black."

"There it is."

"I've been black my whole life, really."

"I've met your parents, Brian."

"Those country niggas!?"

"Whoa! Brian! No! Not OK. Never OK!"

"Not OK for you to say, maybe."

"Brian you're white."

"How dare you!"

"Brian, you know I love you, but we've agreed you'll never use these words."

"You love me!?"

Wait, no. My mistake. I was at B&H with Phil Landsberg chewing on Brazilian candies and discussing their pending war with Adorama and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams Calls me a Racist

"They're Asian. Every day is a science fair."

"Jesus, Brian, stop saying things like that."

"Why? What's racist about it? Ooh, Asians are good at science. Who am I hurting?"

"Making general statements is --"

"General statements? People should wear sunscreen on the beach. Am I a racist? I made a general statement about sun and skin protection."

"General statements about a group of people --"

"Mexicans don't steal! There! What's racist about that?"

"I'm sure there's plenty of theft in Mexico."

"I don't know why you have to be saying negative things about an entire country, racist."

"Not the entire country."

"Racist." Wait, no. My mistake. I was walking down K Street with Ron Kampeas discussing whether hot glue guns were good for the Jews and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams on Red Pants and Reproduction

"You ever see someone with a kid and think, 'Somebody fucked that guy!?' It's astonishing we still let anyone reproduce. I'm including men who wear red pants in this."

"Red pants?"

"Any shade of red. Even burgundy. And I don't care if they match your tie. I want to ask them, 'Why are you wearing red pants, to hide your period blood?'"

"Charming."

"Charming could wear red pants. I'd be OK with that."

"Charming?"

"Prince Charming."

"I'm not sure he was a real person, Brian."

"Real people aren't allowed to wear red pants."

"What about golf?"

"We can't let real people golf!"

Wait, no. My mistake. I was at Uniqlo with Raul Tovar discussing the best way to photograph a hang tag and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams Loses His Anchor Chair

Brian Williams took the news hard.

"You may lose your chair," said Stephen Burke, CEO of NBC Universal and Chair of the Equestrian Department, which has nothing to do with horses.

"Oh, no! My chair!? MY chair!?" Brian was in shock.

"I'm afraid so."

"But I love that chair."

"We all do, Brian. It's a fine chair. But it doesn't go with the new set's color theme. People will be bothered that we put you on it."

"I thought you said people don't care about the news, Stephen B. Burke!?" Brian looked on the verge of tears.

"The content they could give a shit about, yes, but they'll rise up against mismatched furniture."

Brian stood speechless.

"We'll get you a new chair," Stephen B. Burke continued. "Something you really want."

"Jon Stewart's chair!?"

"I'm afraid they've given that to Trevor Noah."

"Foreigners! Who can compete against their accents!? I've been Peirce Morganed!"

"That gives me an idea... "

Wait, no. My mistake. I was sitting in Usdan Cafeteria with Josh Gondelman discussing Brandeis’ new "Computer Stuff Department" and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams gets into Feet

"The game is a foot!", said Brian Williams about his vocational training as a Certified Pedicurist, another Subway-advertised course he'd taken.

"And I'm going to nail it!" Brian Williams loves bragging through puns. He was at the foot of my chair, file in hand, refining my cuticles. Yes, he had the white coat.

"Kids these days don't appreciate the manual trades," Brian said, possibly to me, possibly to himself, and most likely to his imagined audience. "There is a satisfaction to doing things with your hands. A peacefulness." This, from a man who has three shirtless Ivy Leaguers bring him juice on silver trays each morning.

"And your feet! Have you been moisturizing? I don't know what I'm doing this for if you're not going to bath your get in lotion nightly."

"I've been busy."

"There's always time for moisturizing."

Wait, no. My mistake. I was having lunch at Denny's with Dr. Neil Blitz and in my excitement, I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams on Shepherd's Pie and the American Legal System

"Most people are homeless or broke for reasons beyond their control. They get sick, in a country that charges you for getting sick, they take on debt, and get charged for the debt, and there's a fee for being unable to pay fees. And then there's jail, and fees for that. Or they go to school, to be productive members of society, to get a job that requires college, but doesn't pay enough to cover your student loans. It's slavery, under the label of capitalism, but make no mistake: the system is extraordinarily effective at keeping the poor down. Indentured serfs remain indentured. So do their children. The United States is  built on dishonest labels."

"Dishonest labels?"

"Even the label, United States. They're not united. They don't have the same laws. What's legal in one will get you jailed in another. Their congressional representatives vote against the interests of others and for projects that will help their state at the cost of their so-called united neighbors! Lies!"

"You seem very worked up."

"It gets my goat!"

"It sounds very frustrating."

"You know what happens if someone sues you?"

"You go to court?"

"That's right! You go to court! Even if it's complete bullshit! Bam! You just got a ten thousand dollar bill for your attorney to dismiss it. And most of that will be for waiting time. Not in Europe! In Europe the assholes have to prove their case before you're served. The burden is on them."

"That sounds better."

"For criminal, too! No bullshit arrests. You have to prove the case before sticking a human in a cage. And go count the cups shooting innocents -- you don't find it. It's civilization there. America is where you make a fortune acting like an animal, a predator feeding off indentured sheep."

"So you're saying you don't want the shepperd's pie? I hear it's great."

"Lies!"

Wait, no. My mistake. I was enjoying an organic salad with Daniel Gabbay at the Penn Station McDonalds and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams' Dog Vlad, a gift from Putin

Asking, "What's your favorite Beatles song?" is like asking, "Which is your favorite child?" For my parents it's my sister. For Brian, it's his Siberian Husky Vlad, given to him by Vladimir Putin, nametag included. Vlad is a mellow fellow, standing out from his litter only by the size of his enormous testicles. They look like someone wedged two pink tennis balls between his snowy gray legs. Rumor is Putin almost kept Vlad for himself. Because Vlad isn't fixed we've had to make some adjustments to the house. The cat doors had to go, because Vlad, picking up the scent of a bitch in heat, would charge through them, getting stuck at the hip. From one side all you'd see is a giant set of husky balls between a flailing set of puppy legs running in place. We destroyed a few good doors to rescue Vlad. We've also had to advise house guests not to wear fine linen pants. Vlad will hump your leg and linen doesn't hold. If your going to get ridden by a randy husky wear denim. Most get this, but some seem to like the drama, which is why we have a closet just for Regis Philbin backup pants. After he retired he's become hungrier for attention. He puts on a show and we fetch him new pants. Female dogs appreciate a good scrotum so the park is always a challenge. While Brian is playing a lion in the Central Park zoo (link), we have three handlers walk Vlad. Despite our best efforts, and remember Mr. Williams' team are all ex special forces, Vlad by our count has over three hundred children. Jerry Seinfeld's dog Porsche has twelve of these half communist offspring. And make no mistake about it, Vlad was trained in communist party ideology before being gifted to Brian Williams. We have to feed him on a bread line. He's they only dog who eats just his quota. He attacked a man outside the Ukrainian Credit Union on 2nd avenue just for solidarity. Beat the man to the ground and tea bagged him. Wait, no, I was at the Producer's Club with Henry Cruz discussing the many dangers of sitting near a ficus and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams on David Letterman, and Big Bird

"He's gone?"

"Yes, Brian."

"Gone?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Who will bring us joy?"

"Someone will come."

"Never like him."

"True."

We paused in silence. The rising sun illuminating our sadness through the diner's frosty window. The city woke ten degrees colder that morning.

"He was everything. He was the light from the East. The compass to guide us, the square to keep us straight... "

"I'm not sure Dave is a Freemason."

"Irving Berlin was."

"That makes sense. He sang about superiority."

"So is Big Bird."

"That fits."

"Anything Snuffleupagus does he can do better."

"He's an impressive bird." (Agree immediately with any statement Brian Williams makes about Sesame Street. It's in every NBC training manual on page one.)

"David Letterman was the greatest news man to ever grace the screen!"

"News man?"

"Yes."

"You know he was a comedian, right, Brian?"

"A what?"

Wait, no. My mistake. I was sitting in the Olive Tree Cafe with Keith Alberstadt talking about the influence of David Letterman on our lives and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

Goodbye, Dave. Thank you.

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Brian Williams Bikes to Piermont, Tolerates His Children

"My legs!"

"You'll be fine, Brian, it's just a muscle cramp."

"I can't feel my legs! They're gone! Charlie got me!"

"Brian, you're fine. It's just a cramp from a long bike ride."

"Tell my wife I love her."

"I'll be happy to do that."

"And tell my kids I've learned to tolerate them."

"That's big of you."

"They no longer make me regret years of my life."

"I'm sure they'll love that."

"And tell Meredith Vieira I'm sorry about the moose incident."

"What!?"

Wait, no. My mistake. I was biking to Piermont, NY with Yosef Lewis discussing how everyone else on the road was over fifty, and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams, PhD, AD, AD, AD...AD

Brian Williams has attended every college advertised on the NYC subway. From the Franklin Career Institute as an EKG Technician to Devry for C++ programming to NYU (Really, they advertise on the Subway). Brian Williams has amassed over forty Associate Degrees by calling numbers on Subway ads.

It's surprisingly easy to keep Brian's attendance at these schools secret -- most of the students aren't news buffs. And the skills come in handy. Just last week, Brian sweat a leaky pipe in the NBC executive suite, rewired Studio 8H's lighting rig, and welded a new fender onto Stephen Burke's vintage Miata.

Anyone on our team who lacked respect for the trades changed their minds while on assignment in Palo Alto last February. Brian fixed the engine on our news van while hapless physics PhDs looked on. If that wasn't enough, he then dropped into Stanford, hands still covered in oil, to defend his dissertation on paired end sequencing for mapping of structural variation in eukaryotes, which he'd written entirely by thumb with Swype.

So for people wondering what Brian will do if he doesn't return to NBC, I think the real question is, "What can't Brian do!?"

Wait, no. My mistake. I was sitting at Shabbat dinner with Mark Kaganovich discussing fun appearances of the Fibonacci sequence, or as Mark calls it, "that science stuff", and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.

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Brian Williams and Putin Go Fishing

Despite occasionally trying to kill us for sport, Vladimir Putin is a big fan of the NBC team, and especially Brian. But who isn't?

Did you ever wonder who Putin was hunting with, shirtless? Brian.

Of course, Brian doesn't call him, Putin, or even Mr. President. It's purely first names.

"Влади́ми, you sonofabitch! Toss me that lure."

"This lure!?" Putin waves at Brian with his flaccid twelve inch penis, a map of the Kremlin's secret tunnels tattooed on one side of the shaft, and a personal note from Mikhail Gorbachev on the other. Traditional.

"Ha, you old rascal! The fishing lure!"

"I catch more fish with penis."

It's true. Vladimir Putin fed the Olympic Village in Sochi for a full day just dipping his tip into the black sea. Fish love his member like horny Australian minnows love Brian's hair. Rumor has it after a week fishing Putin cums trout .

"Still, lure?"

"Haha, my friend. No knives for Brian. You know the rules!"

Wait, no. I was on the B Train discussing the many qualities of the HB pencil with Shmuel Bruck and in my excitement I confused the stories. It happens.